I don't have to wait for grandchildren to get my revenge

It happens several times a day, and I never get wiser.  I’ll gather her shoes, cothes, clean diaper, whatever, then sit down and call for her.  “WoooonderToddler!  Come here!  It’s time to put some clothes on/change  your diaper/get your shoes on!”  - and then she runs as far from me as possible, so I have to get back up and chase her.  Gah, I never learn.

But today while we were playing in the back yard, she got a taste of her own medicine.  She kept runing up to birds and shouting “Comere!Comere!”  while they hopped away.  Cutest blasted thing you’ve ever seen.  You should come over and see it. Seriously.  Right now.

I’m the kind of person who doesn’t listen to a variety of music at any one given time. When I grasp onto a song of album that moves me, I listen to it ad nauseum. I haven’t been able to get enough of this tune - John Mayer’s Say - in fact, WonderToddler just crawled up on my lap and insisted “Say! Say!” until I played it for her, and then hopped up and down in glee while it played. Whoever wrote the string part did a bang up job, and as usual, Mayer’s lyricism takes my breath away.But the more I think about the lyrics, the more I have to disagree with them personally. In particular, It’s better to say too much than never to say what you need to say again. Maybe for some, the regret of not telling someone how they feel or some other pertinent information might eat at them, but in my life, I’ve found the more I open my mouth, the more I get in trouble. And thankfully, I’m finally starting to learn my lesson.I’ve learned not say anything when one of my girlfriends dates someone who just isn’t good enough for her. They’re all smart, and eventually they always break up and I’m still there for them, no fights or distance in our wake.I’ve learned not to say anything I disagree with my brothers. They’re adults now and it just makes them mad that I’m still trying to be the family whistle blower. They don’t need my advice as much as my unconditional love.I’ve learned not to say anything when a friend drives me bonkers with too much advice. I’d rather quietly do things my own way and keep a friendship strong. They’re really only in my face because they love me.I’ve learned not to say half of what I think to SexyHubby. I know he’d be shocked to hear it what with how blasted much I talk, but I try to do a 50/50 ratio in my head and keep half in. Nothing can hurt quite as much as words, and the times I’ve said everything I was thinking, something has come out that really hurt him. And on further inspection, I didn’t really even believe it that much in the first place. It’s better to keep peace and love in the home and the crazy in my head. I usually get over what is bothering by remembering all the plusses about our relationship and stuffing the negatives deep, deep down in my big toe.Maybe it’s just me, but I’d really rather feel bad and get over it, than make someone else upset and then have the guilt of trying to fix that relationship. It makes me kind of giggle that the same musician who recorded an anthem of speaking your mind also wrote the tune My Stupid Mouth… which tends to fit me perfectly.

[youtube=[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTpy_L1dALA&hl=en]]

Isn't it weird....

When I hear about someone getting pregnant for the first time, I think “oooo! Somebody got it on!”, but when people get pregnant for the second time and so on, I just assume it was like catching a cold or something.  Just one of those things that happens.

 I’m NOT by the way.

I was going to make a post about how my sister in law e.mailed me and told me that it was discovered yesterday that in apocket of a pair of maternity pants I had borrowed from her when I was preggers 2 years ago had a check in it for $400. Because I am just that moronic with money.But then I stumbled on this video - my sexy younger brother, who also is a PHENOMENAL violinist (and way better than me, but I can’t hate him because he’s so dang nice) - arranged Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ for his string quartet and posted this video of the performance. Unforch, he’s the first violinist and was cut off on the screen, so I added these pictures for you to enjoy:

A tidy little grovel list

SO when I thought that my friend was mad at me (when it turns out she was actually just too lazy to call me back) I wrote her a message telling her that I was sorry and she HAD to call me back.  I also added this list of stuff I was willing to do to get her to call me as an incentive:

1. Promise to refrain from mentioning random anecdotes from my sex life for at least 3 months.
2. Hug a dog. (she knows that 1) they scare me and 2) I’m just not an animal person AT ALL)
3. Plant a tree of your favorite fruit and then mail you jam made from said fruit.
4. Learn Spanish.
5. Refrain from mentioning anything derogatory about Provo or Utah itself. (she’s going to the BYU soon) 

Her favorite was number 2. Of course now that I know she wasn’t mad at me, it means I am off the hook for ever hugging a dog or making jam.  This also means I can still creep her out with random quips about what SexyHubby and I may or may not have been doing in the vicinity of our bedroom this morning.

Heh.  Got you too.  Feel free to try and wash your brain out with soap.  I do that to my mom all the time and it’s a wonder she still calls at all.

Okay, not verbally/emotionally constipated anymore.  Didn’t actually ruin the life of the person that I thought I’d ruined, and the other person that I’d offended that wouldn’t call me back?  She was just lazy and forgot to call me.

Whew - that’s a load off.  Now I can go back to complaining about my life that actually has nothing wrong with it.

Liiiiiike, how the new diaper pail I got (because the last one stinks at least half of the house up) has now become WonderToddler’s favorite toy.  Of course.  And ew.

And how about how much I complain that having a baby gave me a poof in my belly, when the simple fact is that if I just did some sit ups I’d totally have a flat tumtum? 

And how miserable motherhood makes me half the time, when the other half takes my breath away with how amazing she is?

And how inSANE my husband makes me with his impatience and weird impulses (this week he’s obsessed with buying another scooter) and how many times a day I seriously contemplate biting his entire cranium off his neck, when the reality is he is the best thing that ever happened to me? 

Yeah, I know.  I irritate me too.  Hey, I know!  Let’s all talk how irritating I am!!  Oh, oh irritated I make me…    ;)

Post Script - the above picture is just cute.  No other point to that. 

100% Awesome.

I have NO idea how this came about, but the name “Ric Flair” came up last night in conversation, and then the issue that I had no idea who this was became an issue, as SexyHusband used this as evidence that I was a dork.  (BTW, he was some kind of wrestling dude in the 90s.  I’m not even dignifying this with a link to wikipedia for you.) 

Moi: “Excuse me, I’ve never even heard that name and I am SOOO cooler than you.  Who the heck knows who a fake wrestler is anyway??”

SexyHub: “Everyone. I’ll bet all of your brothers know who he is.”

Moi: “It is SOOOO on- I’m calling them right now.  You’re gonna owe me 20 bucks.”

First call was to oldest bro - “Huh?”  sweeet.  Next call was to youngest bro - a more emphatic “Huh??”  I didn’t know which number to call for middle brother, so I made youngest brother call him and call me back.

I plotted out how I was going to spend my moola while I waited for the phone to ring, along with mocking SexyHusband for being such a maroon.  (pronounced “maroooooooooon”)

Phone rings - it’s youngest bro.  “You’re out 20 bucks, sis.”

“What’s that you say?  Sweet!  Honey - you owe me 20 big ones!” 

Confused brother on the phone says louder “No, he knew who it was. You lost.”

“Aweome.  I won 20 bucks!”

Really confused brother tries it again, louder and slower - “You lost -he knew who it -“

I turned away from SexyHusband and hissed “Shut it!!” then louder “Woohoo!  I’m a winner!!”

Brother finally gets it. Heh.  That boy has no guile whatesoever.

And SexyHusband didn’t even wise up until I told him about 30 minutes later.  That’s about how long I can keep a secret when it involves me being insanely smart and awesome.

Heh.  Who cares if he thinks I lost.  I know where he keeps the twenties anyway.

Nothing takes your mind off irritating/making other people mad at you than a jaunt to the botanical gardens for Earth Day.  Chalk this up to a good parenting day.

Verbally consitpated.

Can’t write now. Wish I could, but I should not be allowed to talk anymore.  My mouth has gotten me in trouble with 2 - count ‘em - TWO different people and I’m afraid I might do more damage.  Dang me, with my dang stupid opinions.

 On the plus side, I have been a halfway decent mom today.  I’ll still end up owing her therapy when she grows up anyway.

Today is going to be an interesting one… I’m playing with my small celtic combo (Tres de Solei) at a benefit for this organization - Victoria’s Friends.  It’s a ministry for women who are trying to get out of the adult entertainment industry and get the therapy, rehab, education and support that they need to do it. 

I met the founder, Victoria, at a birthday party we played at that she threw for her father.  I watched their family al night as I played, and I have to admit I was a little jealous.  They were all so happy and settled, and I couldn’t help but think of my own family that was going though the grieving process of just losing Megan and the hard road before all of us.  Afterwards, I talked to Victoria and our conversation turned to her own past  - this well-established mom of 2 gorgeous kids, wife of a sweet and loving husband and owner of this very lovely home - had suffered severe trauma as a teen, and had turned to drug and alcohol abuse and working in strip clubs.  Once a woman in the Christian community reached out to her and she found her way again, she turned right back around and created this organization to help other women do the same.  I couldn’t close my mouth - I was so in shock - that she had been that woman and was now such a different woman - and the compassion she had to do so much for others left me speechless and humbled.  I only hope I can someday do anything as noble and giving.

The event will have benefactors there as well as ex-strippers that have been helped though the program…. I can’t wait to see what kind of energy there will be.

_{Interestingly enough, I found out the christian woman who reached out to her was also a member of the same Baptist church I attended last fall where they held a very offensive “informational session” about my LDS faith.  At least their hearts are in the right place, even if their information isn’t.  I’m a little less bitter now.} 

In case you don’t frequent our family blog, I made a post with a bunch of super awesome pictures of WT and the temple.  Enjoy!

Love him or not - you have to admit at least 2 things about Mitt Romney: 1. He has fabulous hair, and 2. He’s got some pretty funny writers. I LOVE his Top Ten Reasons he ran out of the race!

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=hu9NyGh6PiE]

But when it comes down to it…. I guess it all boils down to loving someone enough to let them do all this insanity to you.

Adult WT - watch out.  You SOOOOO owe me a cruise.

NO GOOD VERY BAD DAY

When I was still pregnant and newly moved to Brasil, Watoozi came to visit me.  I remember our conversation we had like it was yesterday - I was reeling from culture shock and all I could think about was every blasted reason I hated it there - and we started listing all the things that drove us nuts about Brasil.  We stopped ourselves once I started getting superdepressed, and we decided to balance things out and do a list of positives about Brasil too.  Granted, it was much shorter, but it was a healthy thing to try.

I’ve been thinking about that conversation today because WonderToddler has been … HORRIBLE - and all I can think of is why I hate parenthood.  SO MUCH.  In fact, the very idea of having another one makes me want to drown myself in her kiddie bathtub.  I think maybe I am possibly being a teensy bit negative…. so, here’s my list of why being a mom is the worst idea ever, and then I shall endeavor to investigate the flip side with the good things parenting brings.

STUFF I HATE ABOUT MOMMYHOOD:

•  Never being able to go to a store without devising 16 ways to keep WT in the cart, and then once she screams so loud and I give in and get her out, the shopping trip is officially over as I have to run after her when she gets away, then carry her wrigging, hysterical body sideways on my hip out the front doors.
• No sleep.
• Screaming.  On both sides.
• Restaurants.  Not being able to enjoy a meal that I didn’t cook or serve, because I spend the entire time trying to convince her to stay in her chair and maybe eat something… she won’t.
• Cooking/preparing food and watching it be smashed, ripped, pushed and/or thrown.  NEVER eaten.
• Those fake cries I hear every time she doesn’t get what she wants.  “Huuuuh huuuuuuh” and I ignore them, because I KNOW they are fake and if she’s not going to eat anything all day, the last thing I’m going to give her that cookie she’s screaming for.  That doesn’t make it any less irritating.
• How everyone else thinks she’s an angel because she treats THEM kindly.  Me, not so much. 
• Carrying her screaming out of libraries, parks, other people’s homes, church, stores, etc. - and then trying to flatten her arched back to I can latch her into the confounded car seat.
• Giving medicine.  I have it down to a science now - hold her almost upside down and squeeze the liquid down her throat, and walking the delicate line between getting her to swallow and drowing. All the while she’s screaming and I’m screaming back “I’M TRYING TO GET YOU HEALTHY!!!”  No gratitude.
• Not being able to have a doctor, dental or shrink visit without moving heaven and earth to get someone to watch WT.  Or teach in the middle of the day without the same.  I feel tethered.  
• Spending my entire day with someone who takes offense at everything I do for her.
• Being responsible for everything.  EVERYTHING.  It’s my fault if she screams.  It’s my fault if she hits.  It’s my fault she won’t eat.  And I’m the one that’s supposed to make sure she’s healthy and not cranky.  I have no experience, no education in this, but since I’m the woman, I’m expected to stay at home and do nothing but this all day every day.  It’s what we do.  And I just. don’t. like. it.
• “NOOOOO!!!!!”

Okay, that’s depressing enough - onto the good stuff:

STUFF THAT DOESN’T SUCK ABOUT MOMMYHOOD:

• When she says “HELLO!” and charms the pants off just about anyone we meet.
• Being surprised that she’s actually smarter and bigger than every other kid we know her age.  (She’s only 18 months and knows the entire alphabet and can count to 10!!!) It’s nice to take credit for, even though all I did was teach her just like anyone else does, she just picks up stuff fast I guess.
• Dressing her up for church.  SO much fun - I’m so glad I had a girl.
• When she hugs me - actually leans her head in and rests it on my shoulder and wraps her little arms around my neck.
• Hearing her say “Thank you!” without me prompting her.  It feels incredible that I got at least one thing right.
• Ignoring her 58 choruses of “mamee, mamee, mamee, mamee” and then asking “WHAT?” just to get her to stop, and seeing her pause, reach up and ask hopefully  - “Hug?”  It melts me every time.
• Getting her to laugh.  Granted, with my kid it’s not too difficult because she’s so easily amused, but it always feels like I’ve hit scored a home run, or hit a touchdown.
• Kisses.
• Watching/hearing her run with those little legs.  It’s more like she’s bouncing, and it’s hysterical.
• Entertainment value.  It just feels good sometimes to laugh when she does something crazy.  And she’ll laugh right along with you. Like this.
• Sleepy hugs, when she clings to me in a lovely, deep and heavy embrace.
• Any time any music comes on - ANY music - she’ll start dancing, hopping and smiling. 
• Reading books to her when she’s tired - because then she’ll sit there and love the entire book with me.
• Slides.  She loves getting up a slide, going down a slide, jumping off a slide, and it’s insanely cute.
• Watching how much she loves people.  She lets people know it - she has a gift of being able to love and let them know it.  It has been very healing to many people and I’m in awe and grateful for it.
• She’s not shy.  I LOVE that:)

Whew…. okay, it was good to end with that list.  I feel better. 

It’s not all horrible, it really isn’t.  But when I think of what I have to do ahead - potty training (I never thought that was difficult, until I met my child), getting her to drop the pacifier, not pick her nose, sleep in a big person bed, stand still, get her to stop putting sticks and dirt in her mouth… and all while going back to the horrific newborn phase with another??

I’m just overwhelmed, and it doesn’t show signs of stopping.  Ever. I can’t enjoy the ride, I wish I could, but I’m too terrified.  I know this is what I’m supposed to do so I did it, but why one earth didn’t I get that nurturing gene??  It would have been oh-so handy.  Anyone want to lend me some????

Okay, I think I found my new dentist!

carlovely:

Love Mattress

This Love Mattress concept designed by Mehdi Mojtabvi. It design for the people can more easily embrace when sleeping. This mattress allows you to hug your loved one intimately without any wrist or arm weakness, and if you are lying on your tummy, your foot can project comfortably into the mattress. It awarded red dot design concept 2007.

I can’t stop thinking of this bed and what a fantastic idea this is.  And how desperately I want need one.

My turn to have dentes trauma

 

Okay - is this normal??

 Today at the dentist, they informed me I’d need a crown.  Okay, I signed a few papers and the assistant asked me “Honey, you got an Ipod?”

“No..”

“Hrm… you’re gonna wish you had one.” 

What??  Suddenly, the guy lowers my chair, jams a needle in my mouth(HARD!) and starts hacking of parts of my tooth.  No explaination, nuthin.  At one point he was nice enough to stop to allow me to silently cry in peace.

I felt like I was getting beaten up - have I really been spoiled?  Is this what dentists are like??  I’ve actually never been to a dentist that didn’t offer me headphones, or at least some words of comfort and explaination to what they were doing.  I swear I’m going to have nightmares - it was by far the worst 2 hours of my life.

(which honestly, if a dentist is the worst 2 hours of my life, then I guess so far, so good.  Except it was HORRIFIC)

Dude, my last dentist even had TV in their ceilings so I could watch while they work and get all distracted.  All I had was my cell phone to squeeze.  Glad I didn’t break it!

Won’t be going to THAT guy again.  Now my mouth needs a hug :(

Remember that super sweet post husband put on our famiy blog?  I decided to answer it with my own.  I don’t think we’re really all that mushy, but I’m not complaining.  A girl likes to be romanced over the web every now and then anyway.

If I had a million dollars (if I had a million dollars)

A local radio station was playing songs about $$ today in honor of Tax Day, and they played If I Had A $1,000,000

Ahhh, the BareNaked Ladies… is there anything they CAN’T do?  Honestly, I don’t think I could play violin naked.  Although I’ve never tried.. well, the point of that is the BNL records at least one track on every album in their birthday suits.

And this song (it’s got a bit of another one at the beginning, but it gets to the goos stuff rather soon) got me to thinking… what would I want if I had a million dollars? A nice reliant automobile?  A Picasso or a Garfunkel?  A monkey?

Here’s a few things I would love: 

A mandolin.  And not just any - an Ovation mando.  *droooing* It sounds so heavenly.  It could make me sound good!  No, I can’t play one (well), but that’s not a big deal since it’s essentially a violin in theory.  I can muddle about one, but I could probably muddle better if I actually had one… that one. 

Time.  Oh, the time to practice violin again… and I hate practicing too, but now that I can’t, I’m starting to lose a lot of my ability and I really shouldn’t do that until I pay off my bills from grad school.

A maid.  When I lived in Brasil an had my friend come over 3 times a week to clean, and every now and then watch WonderToddler, I was in heaven.  To not be alone, to watch things be cleaned and know I’m not the one doing it… spectacular.  And the only reason why if SexyHusband suggested another move south ‘o the border, I’d seriously ponder it. 

Super powers.  (I can be fanciful with this list, I’m never going to have a million dollars anyway!) One superpower in particular - to always have a bod that is smokin’ . To never worry about something fitting or not fitting again, to never have to dread putting on a swimsuit because of my flabby tush hanging out, and most importantly, to be able to eat whatever I want.  Which I already do, BUT I wouldn’t have the dread of what it’s going to do to my thighs.  Honestly, if I worked out a little I’d probably be fine.  But we all know that’s not going to happen… not while there’s something good on TV, or I have to breathe or something.

A nanny.  Not someone like SuperNanny to get in my biz, but an extra pair of hands to help and enjoy my wee one.  And if, like tomorrow, I have a dentist appointment and have to teach some lessons in the afternoon, I wouldn’t have to call every woman I know from church and beg them to watch WonderToddler for an hour, because I’d have that extra pair of hands to take her to the park or something equally fun.  And also, to help WonderToddler learn to whistle while she works.  And to teach her how to work, too.

 

Bling.  Hey, every respectable millionaire should let others know they are fabulously wealthy by wearing it.  ALL of it.

 

Oh yeah, and world peace too.  That ought to be worth a million bucks, right?

What would YOU do with a million dollars? 

So my favorite song to dance to has incited some dancing all the way in the southern hemisphere!  Check out little Nathan “feeling” the music:)

Attack of the Dentes

Yesterday I was sure WonderToddler was either 1. Posessed or 2. Loudly approaching death’s door.  The shrieking, the wailing, the writhing in pain, it was worthy of an exorcisim.  No matter how hard I worked to keep her happy, she went from the screaming to sad wimpering and back again all day long.

SexyHusband found the cause finally - her gums are insanely swollen and she’s got a crop of molars and canines trying to poke through.  Poor thing! 

 Today started out promising (probably because I left her in her crib a tad too long and she was just happy to be OUT) but soon absolutely nothing could keep her from her moans and fake cries and I was out of ideas and patience.  When she gets stir-crazy (usually every day around 10:30am) I get her out of the house - to anywhere, but most preferrably outside.  Even when she was just a few weeks old, she would get super cranky every morning until I would take her outside.  But of course, today is overcast and miserable.

My mind raced to ANYthing WonderToddler likes - yes, I don’t want to be THAT kind of parent, but desperate times and all that…

“Oooh WonderToddler, would you like a french fry??”

*WT perks up* “Feh fye?” she said hopefully.

Sweet! I have an in!  “Yeah, a french fry!!  Wouldn’t that be wonderful?!”

Soon WT is in a foaming happy frenzy repeating “feh fye” over and over again, and I rush to get everything together so we can head out to the closest McDonalds with a playground.

Yes, I shamelessly plied her with fast food to keep her from driving me insane.  I also ordered a water though - so for 2 hours, she ran happily around the playground, periodically coming back to me and asking for another fry or a sip of water - at least I made her say “please.”

 I looked around at the other parents and silently wondered what kind of parent lets their kids eat this stuff.  And then I mentally berated myself because who knows if these kids are all suffering from a horrible case of the teethings too.  Except they were all at least 4 and also male, and incredibly violent.  And she was almost as big as they were!!

Are there no 18 month old girls in this town who are a decent healthy size?!

Am I a horrible parent??  She has no girl friends, and I give her french fries when she hasn’t eaten anything in the last weekend but.. well, nothing.

But as we were leaving, she stopped, pointed at the McDonald’s sign and smiled.

“Mamee!  ‘M!’” 

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Okay, I guess I’m doing SOMEthing right:)

In case you were wondering, THIS is what a Mormon woman looks like.

Do you have a song that makes you close your eyes, let the music wash over you and dance right there in your kitchen, leaving your soul, mind and skin feeling new and clean again? This is my song.I’m so glad I get to share this with y’all! Yay Tumblr!!

Do you have a song that makes you close your eyes, let the music wash over you and dance right there in your kitchen, leaving your soul, mind and skin feeling new and clean again? 

This is my song.

_{I’m so glad I get to share this with y’all!  Yay Tumblr!!}

You know you're a mom when

you spend 15 minutes trying to bleach your toddlers white tennis shoes after she found a big pile of mud to play in so she’ll be the prettiest girl on the whole playground.  All the while, trying to remember that next year, get BROWN shoes.

I remember watching my mother do projects and service for me that sometimes took all night and I wondered if she was insane and how on earth did she get the energy to do so much for me??

Now I know.

a happier link

a happier link

Every now and then I am reminded of how lucky I am to have married that nutso.

This link is to an article from last week, detailing a car accident a 52 year old father from Colorado was in.  60% of his body was covered in burns, and he fought so hard to stay alive that he even dragged himself out of the wreckage of the burning car   *_{the part not burned, for those in the know, was where his G’s covered.}  But still, he passed away last night.

If you saw PBS’ documentary The Mormons, then you saw his family.  One of their daughters has a terminal heart condition (featured in the documentary) and there are 11 children total, the youngest in 6th grade.

They live in the stake I grew up in, and my mother has constantly told me of the incredible things they have been able to accomplish with their family.  I have never heard anything but the highest praise and love for them.  And so I add my tears to theirs and my prayers are for them.  I still don’t have a handle on this death thing.  Especially when children are left behind.  Please, if you have a moment, pray for their comfort and strength.

And hug someone you love a little tighter.

This is what I saw this morning when I walked in the kitchen.  She doesn’t know I’m there yet…

She used to be the size of a jelly bean in my tummy.  How on earth…?

Paradigm shift

It’s Wednesday night and I’m glued to an episode of SuperNanny, desperate to glean some kind of wisdom from this English rent-a-cop, when I witness a familiar and terrifying scene.  The bad family she has been sent to fix is having an experiment at a restaurant, where they’re supposed to teach their toddler to stop throwing tantrums while the family is eating.

Toddler starts going nuts, screaming and wailing atop his high chair.  “Don’t pick him up!” hisses SuperNanny - “you’ll only teach him screaming gets him what he wants!”  So the family sits there, staring at their miniature Tazamian Devil breaking decibel levels.

 4 minutes pass.

8 minutes pass.

12 minutes pass.  The mother angers the SuperNanny and finally holds her toddler, who instantly stops screaming.

I don’t hear what the rent-a-cop is saying - I’m in tears, confused and angry.  My kid freaks out sometimes when we’re out to eat, I think, but I take her out and try to calm her down before I bring her back, or leave.  I’m not thinking about her behavior - I’m thinking about how mad the other patrons might get for my little screamer ruining their meal out.  12 whole minutes??

So then I’m doing it wrong?  I’m creating a monster by trying to be polite?  SuperNanny can’t be wrong - she’s actually got experience in this - I’ve only been a mom for 18 months.  This means I’m messing it up already! I’m a horrible parent!!!!

My stomach is knotted up, and I’m fighting the urge to wake up my baby and teach her what a “Naughty Mat” is. 

30 minutes later…

We hear grunts and moans over the baby monitor.  It’s 10pm, is that tantrum factory going to wake up and scream at me even more?

SexyHusband comes back into our room with a worried expression.  “She’s burning up.  What do we do?”

The knots in my stomach lurch and turn upside down.

We take off her pajamas and force-feed administer a fever reducer, then daddy settles in a chair, cradling her on his chest as I try to cool her down with a wet cloth.  Thoughts of time-outs, discipline and Naughty anythings are gone from my mind.

How funny perspective can be switched so instantly.  I feel helpless, and I find comfort that the look in SexyHusband’s eyes is just as scared as mine.  Her beautiful 18-month body curls up in her daddy’s arms, and she smiles impishly to tell us something very profoud in unitelligible gibberish before her eyes close again and she falls back asleep.

Maybe SuperNanny is right and I’m doing this all wrong.  I can’t get her to stop shrieking at every small disapointment, and these middle of the night fevers and tummy aches make me feel even more clueless and lost.  I’m still waiting for her “real” mom to show up and take over - it can’t be me.  Mothers have all the answers, all I have are lists of questions.

But I can hold her and let her know she’s loved.  That’s all I’ve got so far.

Oh holy snap.

Yay!  Shiny new blog!

Poo, cannot for the life of me to get comments to work!

grr……..  stay tuned…

*edit*

Comments DOOOO work, but you have to scroll dooooown to the bottom of the page.  One extra step and I’ll try to get it fixed - but do your scrolling and say hello anyway!

*yet ANOTHER edit*

It’s alliiiivveeee!!!!!!!!!!

off to do a happy dance and wait for the piles and piles of feedback.  What do YOU think, what needs a tweak?

File under "Girl Problems "

• Why did I think that yellow shoes would be the answer to my spring wardrobe blahs?  And why can’t I stop wearing them?
• Why is my not-yet-18 months-old-toddler bigger than every 3 year old I meet?
• Why did the underwire in my favorite bra attack me yesterday after 2 years of faithful service?
• Why is every woman I see with a toddler 7 months pregnant?
• The woman, not the toddler.
• Although my kid does have one heck of a belly.

My husband gets even sexier when I watch him

doing our taxes.

 rrrrrrowr.

Every now and then, it feels like I’m not so bad at this.

There’s a party in my tummy! (so yummy! so yummy!)

There’s a party in my tummy! (so yummy! so yummy!)
Yo Gabba Gabba